


Such a nerd

by PaleMagnolia



Category: Grace and Frankie (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 22:43:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17989898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleMagnolia/pseuds/PaleMagnolia
Summary: In her life, Brianna Hanson had been described in many ways ("cold hard bitch" being one of them) but no one ever called her a snuggler. Barry loves hugging and nestling and all that sort of nerdy things - of course he does - but her? Nah. Well, to be honest, it's not that she *hates* 'em or anything. They're kinda nice. Sort of. It's just that she's not that into cuddling. Or, well, maybe she is, but she can't let Barry know that. He might think that she's getting soft or something.





	Such a nerd

When Brianna came home at 2.45 a.m., after yet another dinner-and-drinks night with Mallory, she found Barry soundly asleep on the bed, with the lamp on the nightstand still on and a book open on his chest. His face was resting on his elbow, mouth slightly open and glasses askew on his nose. His expression in his sleep was as placid and serene as a child’s.

Brianna smiled and rolled her eyes. “ _Loser_ ” she whispered. She had meant to be wry, but her voice, somehow, came out a hell of a lot sweeter than she had intended.  
Good thing Barry couldn’t hear her: he’d get the wrong idea: he might think that she was getting soft or something. He might even come to believe that she was, like, _in love_ with him or – dunno - that she got a warm fuzzy feeling in her stomach just by watching him sleep.

Ew. Can’t have that.

She put down her Ralph Lauren bag, kicked her high-heeled stilettos off, and bent over him to remove his glasses, unhooking them carefully from behind each ear. As she was doing it, Barry winced and mumbled something in his sleep. Brianna smiled in spite of herself; she folded the stems of the spectacles and put them on the nightstand. She also pried the book – something called _Chasing Lincoln's Killer_ by somebody named James L. Swanson - out of his hands. She took a quick look at the title and rolled her eyes again, but she fished the receipt of the restaurant out of her bag to use as a bookmark, so he didn’t lose his page. She put the book on the nightstand, next to his glasses.  
Then she went to the bathroom, where she wriggled out of her really tight red dress and really uncomfortable push-up bra (free boobs, at last!), put on a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt, removed her makeup (thank God for cleaning wipes!) and brushed her teeth. 

When she got back into the bedroom, Barry had rolled on his side and was hugging his pillow, snoring quietly; he usually waited up for her, but this time she had come home too damn late, even for him. 

She turned off the lights, got under the blankets next to him, whispered “Nighty-night, nerd”, closed her eyes and tried to sleep. It was kind of hard, though, trying to fall asleep without being in his arms. It felt… kinda lonely? It was weird - she had never been a fan of spooning - the whole side-by-side, back-to-chest business: she always thought sleeping with the limp, sweaty body of a dude draped around her, his mouth blowing hot air into her neck and his arm around her waist feeling like a 50-pound weight, was low-grade torture. But Barry was such a snuggler, and she had to admit that, after a while, she had gotten used to the feeling – Barry’s big strong arms around her, the solid warmth of his chest against her back, the calm steady sound of his breathing and all that. 

Yeah, well. It was not that bad. 

Ok, it was kinda nice. 

All right, it was _super nice_ , there was no denying it.

She opened her eyes and peered in Barry’s direction. He – or, at least, the black silhouette of him in the dark - was snoring quietly. “Barry?” she said softly. No answer. He was sound asleep.  
Well, _fine_ , whatever. Hugging was nice and all, but she’d have to do without for once. No big deal - she was a grown ass woman, she could sleep on her own. She’s been doing it all of her life, after all. She didn’t even like hugs that much. 

… I mean, sure, they _were_ kinda nice.

She shut her eyes again. After a while, though, she re-opened one eye and peered in Barry’s direction again. “ _Bar-ry?_ ” she whispered. This time he snorted lightly, but still didn’t wake up. Well, screw him. She was not going to go and spoon him like some needy fifteen-years-old. 

Nope. Not gonna happen. 

Brianna Hanson doesn’t snuggle, she told herself. She might _accept_ snuggles, all right, but she’ll never, like, you know, _start_ them.

Nope. Uh-huh.

She resolutely closed her eyes one more time, but sleep still eluded her. She tossed and turned, half-hoping Barry would wake up and put her out of her misery, but he didn’t move an inch, and his breathing was still slow and steady, indicating deep, sound sleep.

Ugh. Whatever. 

She side-eyed him again. Maybe she could go and hug him. Like, just this once. A one-time thing. She wouldn’t let it become a habit or anything.  
_He’s sleeping like a rock_ , she thought. _He won’t even notice._  
_Well, he better not notice. It would be, like, super humiliating if he did._ Tentatively, she outstretched an arm in the dark towards the dark shape of the man sleeping next to her, and put a hand on his waist. 

No reaction. Good.

She wiggled nearer, then stopped for a moment to listen to potential changes in Barry’s breathing rhythm. But he was still snuffling softly. 

Great.

She scooched even closer, ever so slowly, one inch after the other, until her breasts were pressed, nice and soft, into his back. His body was warm under his t-shirt and smelled faintly like his aftershave. He always smelled so nice, damn him. Her arm slid around his waist.  
She already felt more like sleeping. The operation so far had been a success, with Barry blissfully oblivious to her manoeuvres; she had been smooth as fuck, she congratulated herself. She nuzzled her face into the back of his neck and closed her eyes. In the morning, she thought, she’d pretend not to have any idea about how they ended up in that position. If he asked, she could always convince him _he_ had been the one who crawled back right into her boobs in his sleep. He’d totally believe it.

A moment later, though, she felt Barry’s hand slip onto hers and squeeze it. “Love you, Bri” he mumbled.

She winced. _Damn it!_

Perhaps she hadn’t been _that_ smooth, after all. 

“Love you, too, nerd” she sighed, as softly as she could, hoping he hadn't heard it and knowing perfectly well that he had.


End file.
